


The Rain-Bringer

by TheKingInTheMountain



Series: The Sky-Walker [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Frees the Slaves (eventually), Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker is the Chosen One, Based on Fialleril's amazing concept of Tatooine, Friendship, Naboo Culture and Customs (Star Wars), Other, Tatooine Slave Culture (Star Wars), Tatooine Slave Revolution (eventually)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28007739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKingInTheMountain/pseuds/TheKingInTheMountain
Summary: After Jabba the Hutt aligns Tatooine with the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the Republic is forced to intervene to bring the formerly neutral Outer Rim world under Republic control. Jedi Knights Kenobi and Skywalker are sent ahead of a Clone invasion force to force Jabba to relinquish control of the planet.For Anakin Skywalker, however, it's far more personal. It's a reconnection to the past, and what it truly means to be the Chosen One.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker (past), CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: The Sky-Walker [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051346
Comments: 27
Kudos: 208





	1. The Knight and the Queen

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a testament to the wonders of Fillareil's work on Tatooine and its slave culture. None of this would've been possible, or even conceived without it. Thank you.
> 
> I'd like to have an update every week, so expect at the very least one update weekly.

For Anakin Skywalker, home was always an abstract concept. 

Sure, the Jedi Temple could be considered a home. How could it not be? But there was always something...off-putting about it. There was always a feeling of not belonging. Even if he could ignore the glares and the mockery from the Padawans when he first arrived, even if he could put aside the blatant distrust and disapproval from the Masters and the Council he received even up to the present moment, it never felt like anything more than a place he was at; a place where he may have slept, ate, and trained, but not a home. 

The closest thing he could attach the concept of home to was his childhood home in Mos Espa, in the Slave Quarters. The run-down sand hovel, with only just enough room for himself and his mother, where they lived not out of choice but out of their station in life. But even then, the idea of that being home was only because his mother was there. If he returned, well, he doubted that he would consider the sand-blasted shack his former home. Maybe a former place of residence, but not a home.

That all changed with Naboo. And Padmé. That first (well, second, if you count the brief time he spent there as a child) time he came, it was hardly under good circumstances. Padmé’s life was in danger, and he was chosen to protect her. But then he met her family, and saw the beauty of the green world, and when they went to Varykino…

Among other things, he knew what home really felt like. It was with Padmé, no matter where she was. When the War was over, he would tell the Jedi everything and go to that Lake Country villa and live out the rest of his days in peace. Or, as much peace as a Skywalker could get.

So it was no surprise, certainly not to him, that when he and Obi-Wan returned from the Front on three-weeks’ leave, he sought out his Angel immediately. With his uniform still caked with the dirt of some inhospitable world he and the 501st had been fighting on, he rushed to her place at the Senate Apartment Complex. As luck would have it, the Senate was taking a month-long recess.

Without much delay, they packed (or, rather, Padmé packed her wardrobe and Anakin helped) and went off to Naboo. Just in time for the Winter Festival. After trailing along with her customary stops to see the Queen, and her ritual of meeting with her parents over dinner, dodging the question of Anakin’s presence with the grace and ease of the cunning politician he knew she was, they wasted no time in heading to Varykino. For three weeks of peace, with nothing to interrupt them except Threepio’s nagging.

“Angel…” He whispered into her ear in that voice that he knew drove her wild, as she nuzzled against him in front of a roaring fireplace in the common area.

“Yes, Ani?” She looked up at him with those orbs of beauty that captivated his soul every time they locked with his. The eyes that stole his heart all those years ago.

“You’re crushing my foot,” he shimmied his foot underneath her, watching with amusement as she pushed off of him, leaning over on the other side of the couch and taking the blanket with her, “now, wait a minute! I didn’t say I wanted you to move there!” He protested, trying and failing to pretend like he was mad at her, “and now you’ve taken the blanket! Do you know how cold I am?”

“...Yes,” she looked at him like he was an opponent on the Senate floor. The resolute face of determination was one of his favorites on her, but he loved the darling wife even better, “you’re the Hero With No Fear, aren’t you? Come and take it!”

“I don’t think I’m brave enough to fight a Senator,” he jokingly confessed as he slid closer to her, and as soon as he sat right beside her, he laughed, “but I have a reputation to uphold, don’t I?” She smiled at first, but then her eyebrows furrowed as he raised his flesh hand up, levitating it off of her and placing it comfortably around himself, exposing her to the cold room in nothing more than pyjamas, “see? You can’t win against a Jedi.”

“Maybe not…” she placed her hand along his arm, and started sliding over towards his chest, running it down underneath the blanket, “but I think we can compromise and come to an mutual agreement, right?”

As her hand wandered lower, he felt his body become electrified by her touch.

“I think it may take some aggressive negotiations, Senator,” he flashed her a devilish grin, a grin that always led to their own form of diplomatic business, of which many conferences had been held in this very house, “but I think I can be persuaded.”

He leaned in to kiss her, as he felt her hand wander to its destination, their lips locking in an intensity that seemed to grow with each kiss. Inwardly, Anakin feared that one day, the kisses they would share would not electrify him, but that day was - thankfully - not today.

So it was all the more annoying when they heard a knock on the door. They broke their kiss and looked at each other, frozen in place.

“Maybe it was just the wind,” Anakin gestured towards the snow storm brewing outside. It wasn’t intense, not yet anyway, but the wind was already whipping around.

“I don’t know,” Padmé, ever more rational than he was, disagreed, “it sounded like a knock.”

And then it came again, this time a little louder. More force put on the door.

Anakin let out a Huttese slur, scowling at the door, “didn’t you tell Sabé not to disturb us?”

“Sabé would’ve commed first, if she was coming over,” Padmé shook her head, “and I don’t think it’s Captain Typho…”

“Then who could it be?” He didn’t mean for the question to sound as angry as it did when it came out, but he could not deny his frustration. Who was it? What could possibly be so important as to come all the way out to the Lake Country in the middle of a snowstorm to harass them?

“Anakin! I know you’re in there!” 

Oh.

Kriff…

“Obi-Wan?” Padmé suddenly rose to her feet, running her hands down her pyjamas as if to make herself more decent. She moved towards the door, and in a flash, Anakin rose to his feet and tried to put as much distance from her as possible, trying to look casual in his Naboo winter clothing, something a bit gaudish for his tastes but comfortable all the same.

Padmé opened the door and, at last, Master Obi-Wan entered into the sacred temple of their secret love. He was wearing, so typical for Master Obi-Wan, his Jedi robes hidden underneath a thick woolen cloak. Pulling down his cloak’s hood, he revealed his face. And, to Anakin’s shock - which could not be contained by his mental shields in time - he seemed almost...amused.

“Senator Amidala, a pleasure as always,” Obi-Wan bowed to Padmé, as he always did no matter how many times she protested it, “I see you have kept my former Padawan occupied?”

“No! No! It wasn’t like that, Master!” Anakin was the first to interject, cutting off Padmé before she could even get a word in, “we were…” What would work? What would Obi-Wan believe,”...discussing the new Senate bill...the one that would authorize the Republic to...uh…”

“...fund constituent systems directly to build a self-defense militia, to cut down on our requirement for the Clone Army,” she picked up where he left off, and he wasn’t sure if it was a real bill or if she was just playing along. Either way, he loved her all the more for it, “naturally, it didn’t even make it out of a committee.”

“Ah, yes, fascinating,” Obi-Wan nodded sagely. Anyone who didn’t know Obi-Wan as intimately as Anakin would say that he was assuaged by this explanation, perhaps even believing it.

But Anakin knew better.

He knew that look.

It was the look of “I don’t believe either of you.”  
“Senator, I am afraid I must cut Anakin’s study on the finer aspects of politics short,” did Obi-Wan just grin? His face was immovable, as it always was in these tricky situations, but Anakin could sense his growing amusement in the Force, through their bond, “there has been troubling news from the Outer Rim, and we have been recalled to the Front.”

“Oh no…” Anakin felt Padmé’s heart sink to the floor. She was like this every time they parted ways, doubly so if it was in the middle of their few-weeks-vacation, “what’s happened?”

“It appears Jabba the Hutt…” Anakin felt his anger spike, and judging by the microsecond twinge on Obi-Wan’s face and the corresponding waves of calmness and peace that followed, his former Master did too, “...has decided to throw his lot in with the Separatists. The alignment of Tatooine has placed the Separatists closer on seizing the Corellian Run.”

“That’s not possible!” Anakin couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “Count Dooku stole his son!”

“Perhaps he is making this deal because the Separatists have begun to threaten him,” Obi-Wan shrugged, “the Jedi Council is sending us ahead of an invasion force. We’re to make a last attempt at negotiation before the Clones hit the planet.”

“Why?” Anakin narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan, “why should we negotiate with Jabba? If we invade, we can free the slaves...we can free Tatooine…”

He felt regret. Regret for the promise to his mother that he had forgotten, the dream that he had stopped wishing for.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan felt...strange in the Force. Like he...agreed with Anakin? But didn’t...it left Anakin all the more confused, “we can’t simply land on Tatooine and free the slaves. And Jabba has an extensive mercenary army, even without the droids surely now stationed there. We need to avoid bloodshed if we can,” his former Master then raised his hand up to his beard, stroking it thoughtfully, as if thinking about a possibility. Anakin sensed this, but alas, not the idea itself.

“If we can side with Jabba, to keep him alive from Dooku and Grievous...if he is really being coerced that is…” Padmé interjected, “then maybe we can force him to relinquish control of Tatooine. We can demand that, in return for Republic intervention, he must abide by Republic laws...which includes a ban on slavery.”

“Yes, Senator, the idea is sound,” Obi-Wan nodded, and Anakin felt good. He felt good that both Padmé and Obi-Wan were on the same page. If the two people who mattered most in his life agreed, then it all sat easier in his head.

And he almost forgot Obi-Wan’s latent amusement about the whole situation he found him and Padmé in.

“Do we have to go now, Master?” Anakin asked, trying not to sound like a petulant child.

“Unfortunately, Anakin, yes,” Obi-Wan nodded with some hint of regret in the Force, but then he felt...smugness? “I’m sure Senator Amidala will continue your political studies at a later date.”

“Oh, yeah, right…” Anakin rubbed the back of his head, feeling the heat in his cheeks, as he nodded to his former Master, “well, I didn’t really bring anything except my robes...I’ll just go grab them now…”

He withdrew from the room as quick as he could, rushing to Padmé’s room to grab the dark-colored Jedi robes. With speed unmatched even in the past, he threw them on. As he did, he allowed his mind to wander on Obi-Wan’s presence. Was his Master really so oblivious that he didn’t see what was obviously in front of him?

Or, perhaps, he did and chose not to acknowledge it? Because acknowledging it would force his hand? 

He didn’t know.

Returning to the common area, he found Obi-Wan and Padmé engrossed in some topic which had them both chuckling, leaving Anakin feeling rather left out. Artoo had, by now, joined the party and seemed, by his chirpings in Binary, already gotten himself involved. 

“Are we ready to go, Master?” Anakin said, trying to hide his frustration with the whole mission.

“Always the impatient one, my former Padawan,” Obi-Wan sighed, but Anakin felt the warmth in the statement. Didn’t make him feel any better, though. His former Master turned to Padmé and bowed, “Senator, I will try to return him to you in one piece.”

“Of course, Master Jedi,” Padmé nodded, and Anakin felt like he was missing some inside joke.

“Pad-” he cut himself short, as he bowed to her, “Senator Amidala, it was a pleasure...hopefully we can resume our...negotiations...at another time?”

“I will be waiting on it, Anakin,” she bowed in return, but grasped his hand and pulled him tightly in a hug, that not even Obi-Wan’s presence could stop. She leaned up and whispered, “please come back safe.”

Anakin could do nothing but look into her eyes. He would. He always did. He always will.

“Let’s go, Artoo!” Anakin whistled to his astromech, who followed along as the three of them left Padmé behind. Anakin felt deep sadness in the Force, but strangely, Obi-Wan sent out waves of his own. Comfort. Understanding. Peace.

They didn’t speak a word until they got onto the shuttle, taking them up to a Republic destroyer in the upper atmosphere. Anakin decided, as the shuttle broke through Naboo’s atmosphere, to ask the question that had been lingering in his mind since his Master appeared.

“Master, how did you find me?”

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan turned to him with the look. The look that told him, without any words being spoken, that all of the smoke and mirrors he and Padmé had been putting up had been for nothing, “everyone knows where you go when you are given leave from the War. All it took was finding out that Senator Amidala wasn’t on Coruscant.”

“But…?” What? This didn’t make any sense.

“We will discuss this further after our mission on Tatooine, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied, with the tone that Anakin would not be able to avoid this conversation even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t 

Master Obi-Wan was an enigma, which kept on getting more and more incomprehensible. Wasn’t he supposed to be the Jedi’s Jedi? The Council-is-Always-Right Jedi? What happened to that? 

Instead of voicing his confusion, or asking one of the many dozen questions floating in his mind, Anakin simply looked off into space and said,

“Yes, Master.”


	2. Aboard the Vigilance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Obi-Wan attend a briefing, detailing the plan for Tatooine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank all you guys for the outpouring of support! I wanted to pose an open question, and see if you guys prefer keeping the story centered on a POV with Anakin, or if you would like it to branch out to the supporting cast of Obi-Wan, Rex & Cody, Grievous, and the Tatooine folk?
> 
> Let me know in the comments!

When the shuttle touched down in the hull of the _Venator_ -class Star Destroyer _Vigilance_ , Anakin was practically whisked up to the bridge and to the planning table, very little time afforded to even freshen up or grab a cup of caff. He followed closely behind Master Obi-Wan, his thoughts continually pulling back towards his intrusion on his secret (or, at least, he thought it was secret) life. They boarded a lift and began their ascent up to the bridge, the two Jedi alone without any of the brothers to take their minds off of what went down on the planet’s surface.

Were they really that obvious? Did everyone know this unspoken secret, feeling that, if they kept their mouths shut and ignored it and pretend that they didn’t know, they could retain deniability should it ever come to light? If Obi-Wan was so amused by the sight of him with Padmé, then he shuddered to think of what the brothers talked about in their mess halls and in the privacy of their barracks rooms. He could picture Rex and Fives and the rest of the 501st Legion, in their thousands, betting on when their General’s love affair was finally exposed. After all, the _Vigilance_ and the _Resolute_ , as well as numerous other escorts and transports, had been diverted to Naboo to pick up their General…

“Anakin, could you silence your thoughts, please?” Obi-Wan chastised Anakin, causing the young Knight to wince in embarrassment for letting his shields slip, “you’re giving me a headache.”

“Oh...right…” Anakin rubbed the back of his neck, brushing through the neck scruff of his hair, “sorry, Master.”

“You need to focus,” Obi-Wan reminded him as the lift’s doors opened to the bridge, “I need not remind you of the grave implications of a Separatist presence on Tatooine would mean.”

Anakin could only nod, with an inkling of fear and dread creeping up his spine. The Dragon inside him coiled and hissed, knowing what Obi-Wan meant in between the lines. A Separatist presence on Tatooine meant that they could, once more, threaten Naboo. They could threaten Padmé. They could come to the only peaceful place in the Galaxy, the only place where he felt truly at ease, and lay waste to it like they almost did earlier in the War. 

“Generals,” Commander Cody saluted as the two Jedi marched onto the bridge. The clones and non-clones alike snapped to attention, but with a dismissal wave from Obi-Wan they went back to their business. As Anakin took his place beside Obi-Wan, he saw Captain Rex, Admiral Yularen, and an assortment of human Republic Navy officers standing around the briefing table.

But there was one noticeable absence, a presence that would’ve been standing on his right, filled with the same spirit that he had once had as a Padawan. The hole that Ahsoka left when she turned away from the Jedi Order - turned away from him - had never truly healed. But he didn’t - couldn’t - allow himself to get caught up in this thought loop, and so he turned his whole attention towards the briefing.

“For the benefit of General Skywalker, I will go over our latest intelligence reports again so we may have some...fresh eyes...on our plans,” Admiral Yularen looked towards Anakin, and then gestured for one of his staff officers to begin the presentation. A holographic display of Tatooine and its surrounding systems came to life from the table, “Republic Intelligence has uncovered communications from Jabba’s palace on Tatooine to known Separatist relay stations in the Outer Rim. It is believed that he has been in communications with Count Dooku, and is planning to formally align his region of Hutt Space with the Separatist cause,” the graphic suddenly changed, depicting a red blotch over some of the systems, “this is an approximation of Jabba’s personal holdings, and as you can see...it places our military operations on the Outer Rim at great risk…” the Admiral waved his hand over the hyper lanes and pointed towards Christophsis and Naboo, “if Tatooine falls into Separatists hands, we may find ourselves placed once more on the defensive.”

“So that’s where we come in,” Anakin replied, with a cocky grin and arrogance in his voice. Deep down, though, the dragon roared fire into his heart. He could not let the Separatists reach Naboo. He couldn’t let them hurt Padmé.

“The Chancellor himself has requested that we are sent ahead to-” Obi-Wan began, but Anakin quickly cut him off.

“Wait, Chancellor Palpatine requested us? Specifically?” Anakin couldn’t believe it. Palpatine knew his feelings towards his home planet, knew well how much he despised it. No, no, he knew...maybe it was just a coincidence…

“Yes, well, you are the expert on Tatooine, Anakin,” Obi-Wan shrugged his shoulders, and Anakin pushed back the desire to bite back that it had been over ten years since he had interacted with the culture there, that he was only familiar with the Slave Culture, and not the ways of Depur (and he surprised himself that he could remember that word), “the Chancellor, and the Jedi Council for that matter, want to avoid a full-scale invasion of Tatooine. Our forces are spread thin as it is. Another front might spell the end of any hope to finish this war before the end of the year. We will go to Tatooine discreetly, and negotiate terms with Jabba to stay out of the war.”

“Intelligence reports that Separatist forces have been mustering somewhere in the Outer Rim near Tatooine, preparing for the official declaration of Jabba’s intentions,” Admiral Yularen gestured towards the map, which now displayed an image of a Separatist naval task force, “we believe that the Providence-class dreadnought Lucid Voice and its accompany escort force is lurking within the immediate area of Tatooine,” he cleared his throat, “nothing we cannot handle, sir.”

“Rex, I want you to start drilling the men. Get them ready for a ground assault,” Anakin turned towards Rex, “it’ll be like Geonosis, but a lot hotter...and sandier.”

“Yes, sir,” Rex saluted, and took his leave to communicate with the men back on the Resolute. Anakin felt a swelling of pride for his clone commander, and wondered if Obi-Wan felt the same way about Cody.

“Cody, you ought to do the same. Make sure our gunships are ready in case the negotiations fail,” Obi-Wan instructed his commander in the same manner as Anakin did, “now, if that’s all, we will take our leave. Anakin and I must formulate our own plan for the negotiations.”

“Of course, Generals,” Admiral Yularen nodded his head, “we’ll be at Tatooine in less than six hours.”

“Actually, Admiral, I’d like for the fleet to drop out of hyperspace outside of the system,” Obi-Wan spoke, almost as an afterthought as he and Anakin moved to the lift, “Anakin and I will take our fighters to Tatooine, and you may await our signal to proceed.”

“Very well, General Kenobi,” Admiral Yularen bowed his head, and the two Jedi disappeared into the lift. Anakin was thrust back into his own thoughts, swirling with ruminations on Padmé, on the Chancellor, and on Tatooine.

“What do you expect we’ll find, Master?” Anakin asked, trying to turn his mind away from the fear and uncertainty gnawing deep at his bones.

“Well, knowing our luck, we shall drop out of hyperspace in our fighters to be surrounded on all sides by Separatist battleships, get captured by General Grievous, forced to endure another monologue by Count Dooku,” Obi-Wan said, with mirth in his voice. He turned towards Anakin, his mouth upturned in a sly grin, “and I suspect you will lose another lightsaber.”

“That’s a low blow, Master,” Anakin laughed, almost forgetting his worries and fears. Almost. His thought soon became words, as his laughter subsided and he began to speak, “there’s something not right about this mission. I don’t know what it is, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“I agree,” Obi-Wan nodded, raising a hand to stroke at his beard, “we must proceed carefully and with caution. I fear things will not be as they seem.”

Anakin agreed, but didn’t voice his concern. He had been away from home too long to know how things really worked anymore. But then again, did the life of slaves ever change? Did Jabba the Hutt ever care about anything except more money and more power? Neither of those things seemed to be changing any time soon, but that brought forth another question in his mind.

If Jabba wanted power and money, then why would he side with the Separatists? The Confederacy was deprived of the Banking Clan loans, and that surely in a bad place for funds. There’d be no reason to side with the Separatists, doubly so considering that Hutt Space wasn’t even part of the Republic. Questions swirled around, and in the torrent of his mind, caught up in worried fear for Padmé over all else, he couldn’t find answers.

The lift doors opened and the two Jedi made their way towards their quarters. Anakin kept a spare room aboard Obi-Wan’s flagship, no matter which ship it was, but he doubted that he would be able to sleep. Too much was weighing on his shoulders and, judging by the look on Obi-Wan’s face as they reached their rooms, he knew it too.

“Get some rest, Anakin,” Obi-Wan laid a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, and gave him a grin, “I suspect it won’t be as good as the rest on Naboo, but I suppose it will have to do.”

“Uhm...of course, Master,” Anakin bit back the desire to ask the question, knowing that whatever answer he received from Obi-Wan wouldn’t help relieve his mind at all. He watched as Obi-Wan entered into his room, and then made his way down one door to go into his. As he entered, he found Artoo already making himself comfortable in the room, standing (sitting?) in the middle of the sparse and spartan quarters.

Instead of collapsing on the bed, which by all rational thought is what he should’ve done, he sat down on the floor beside Artoo and placed a hand on his dome, “Force, buddy, I never wanted to come back here.”

 _/Neither did I. Do you remember the last time? It took me weeks to get the sand out of my processors./_ Artoo chirped, sounding rather peeved to Anakin.

“Me too, Artoo, me too…” Anakin laughed, as he fell down onto his back, laying up and staring at the ceiling, “hey, do you think...well...I don’t know how to put this…”

_/I have written myself programming to better understand the nuances of the Skywalkers./_

“I’m sure you have!” Anakin shook his head, but turned his mind back to the thought train at hand, “well..I guess I’ll just say it, do you think Obi-Wan, you know, knows? About me and Padmé?”

 _/Is that really what you’re worried about right now? Not the fact that the Separatists are taking over Tatooine? Or the fact that I am overdue for an upgrade to my thrusters?/_ Artoo spun his dome dismissively.

“No! Well, yes, maybe a little, but it’s a serious question!” Anakin protested, sitting back up and looking at Artoo straight and directly, “do you think he knows? If he knows, Artoo, well, that’s the end of it! They’ll kick me out for sure!”

_/Anakin...I mean this in the nicest way possible...you are delusional./_

“That’s not an answer!” He protested, groaning and falling back down, “what am I gonna do, Artoo?”

 _/Upgrade my thrusters and give me an arm that allows me to use a lightsaber./_ Artoo warbled, his tone oozing with sincerity hidden underneath sarcasm, _/in all seriousness, you are not as subtle as you think./_

Anakin looked over with an eyebrow raised and deep worry in his heart. If even Artoo could see that all of their secrecy had failed, then trained Jedi Masters would’ve seen through it years ago! But if they knew, then why didn’t they say anything? The thoughts were overpowered now, again, by the fear of the mission on Tatooine.

Returning home. He still remembered the time when he went there with Padmé....when his mother died...With a shudder, he dismissed it, trying to ignore the fear growing more and more powerful.

“Hey, well, if you’re so insistent on getting this upgrade, let’s go down to the hangar bay,” Anakin rose to his feet, “we’ll see what we can scrooge up for you, yeah?”

 _/About time! Let’s go!/_ Artoo beeped with joy, spinning his dope as he extended his legs out and sped towards the door before Anakin could rise to his feet. 

He would go to the hangar bay and work on Artoo. Yeah, that would work. He was always able to clear his head working on something. If he finished work on Artoo before they got to their destination, well, the starfighter always needed some work done to it...


	3. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin returns to the Lars Homestead, and finds that the past cannot always be outrun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long with this! I intended to get it out on Friday, but Christmas and everything caught up to me.

“No sign of Sep battleships yet, Master. I think we’re in the clear.”

Anakin steered his yellow Eta-2 starfighter off of the hyperdrive rings, cruising towards the barren desert planet that grew ever closer. In his peripheral vision, he could see Obi-Wan’s red starfighter take up position alongside him, as both Jedi make their approach to Tatooine.

“Let’s not be hasty, Anakin. For all we know, this could be a trap,” Obi-Wan reminded him through their commlink, “Force knows how many times we’ve fallen into this one.”

“You say that like you don’t have fun fighting your way out,” Anakin smirked, as he guided the pair into the atmosphere. He could see the irregular and disjointed space traffic moving two-and-fro the major spaceports on the planet’s surface. It was totally unlike the organized system of Coruscant or the Core Worlds. Here, it was a free-for-all. There was no traffic control stations, no police ships to chase down violators. Here, it was where the bigger ship had the right of way, and either you moved out of the way...or you were forced to.

As the two starfighters careened through the traffic moving through the atmosphere, a large cylindrical freighter was heading in the opposite direction right in front of them, and didn’t look like it was about to stop or give way for two starfighters. Even if they were Jedi starfighters. Anakin saw - and felt - Obi-Wan give way and peel off to avoid the freighter, but Anakin pressed the throttle down with a grin on his face.

 _/Give way, Anakin. He’s not going to stop./_ Artoo whirled, looking straight into the cockpit at his Jedi pilot

“Yes, he will,” Anakin laughed, “just you watch. I can’t believe you have so little faith in me.”

The freighter loomed ever closer, its nose burning slightly from its exit of the upper atmosphere of Tatooine. But Anakin kept his nose down, gritting his teeth as he felt the turbulence shudder the starfighter. His knuckles turned white around the sticks, pressing the starfighter to its limits.

 _/Stop! Stop now! I’ll eject! Don’t think I won’t!/_ Artoo screamed - if an astromech could scream - at Anakin, his Binary turning into a shrill piercing noise in Anakin’s headset. Just as it looked as though the freighter and the starfighter were about to collide, Anakin pulled up on the sticks and passed harmlessly over the freighter, twisting the yellow craft in an Aileron roll, laughing like a madman as the starfighter flew away from the freighter. Artoo screamed more at him, but Anakin wasn’t paying attention.

It was moments like those that made him feel alive. That made him feel every bit of the Jedi Chosen One he was apparently supposed to be. That made him almost forget the roaring dragon of fear in his heart. And as if on cue, as if by merely mentioning its name invoked its presence, he felt the fire burst inside of him.

 **(Did you forget what happened all those years ago on Tatooine?)** it asked, as it bore its teeth into his veins.

No, how could I forget? He would answer back, because every time he closed his eyes and thought about Tatooine, about his mother, about the place of his childhood, he could not remember his friends from the Slave Quarters. He could not remember the stories of Ekkreth, try as hard as he might to recall them. He could not remember the smell of the stalls. He only remembered the lowest moment in his life, when the Sand People stole his mother, and when she died in his arms, and when he-

 **(When you killed them all. All of them.)** The Dragon roared fire, and he felt it climbing into his throat. Choking him with every failed breath.

“Anakin, where do you plan on landing?” Obi-Wan’s voice through the commlink broke his thoughts, and sent the Dragon back into the depths of his heart. For now, “it’s been some time since I was last on Tatooine.”

“We’re going to avoid going directly to the major spaceports,” Anakin replied, mustering as much of the Holonet-famed courage and fearlessness as he could, “I know a place...it’s halfway between Mos Espa and Mos Eisley. They’re good people, and we’ll probably be able to stay there to avoid getting spotted in the spaceports.”

“Good thinking,” Obi-Wan mused, “and you remember where it is?”

“Of course, Master,” he said in reply, but the _(howcouldiforget?)_ died on his tongue. The two starfighters passed deeper into the atmosphere of Tatooine, to where Anakin could see a rolling sandstorm somewhere in the depths of the Dune Sea. Following a route almost ingrained into his memory, he pulled the fighter downwards, heading towards a moisture farm on the edge of nothingness.

As the farmstead came into view, he saw flashes of red bolts glimmer over the desert sands. Circling banthas had the bolts fly off of their backs, and he could faintly see them smash against a white circular building in the middle of the farm. His heart fell to his feet, and he felt the Dragon roar louder than ever before.

 **(You should have killed them all when you had the chance.)** Its fire shot through his body, and he fought with all his might to not succumb to it.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he murmured, not sure if he was speaking to Artoo, or to Obi-Wan, or to himself.

The starfighter descended the last few hundred feet and he landed in the middle of the firefight. Taking his lightsaber in hand, he flicked a switch and popped the cockpit hatch open, making a Force-assisted jump as he ignited his lightsaber. He turned with anger in his heart as he saw a band of Tusken Raiders, making a move on the farmstead.

**(Good. Now finish them! Kill them!)**

As he moved forward, swinging his lightsaber to mercilessly cut down the closest Tusken, he heard them let out a cry of fear. And he felt their swelling fear and helplessness in the Force, as they all got sight of him and turned away. They ran for their lives from him, not even bothering to let out a retreating shot as they hopped on their banthas and ran deep into the desert.

**(They should be afraid.)**

“Jedi! Well, I’m damn glad to see you!” A gruff-like voice said from behind him, and with a deep breath he turned around to see a familiar man - the name escaping him as his fury began to subside - walking up towards him, “wait a minute...you’re Shmi’s son, right?”

“That’s right,” he nodded through pursed lips, as Obi-Wan came up beside him.The comforting presence of his Master in the Force brought his anger down, and he felt it wither away into the Force. Anakin deactivated his lightsaber, but still held it in his hand, “you’re…?”

“Owen. Owen Lars,” he extended his hand, and Anakin reluctantly shook it, “things have been...well..they’ve been awful since Jabba bit it. Who’ve thought that things could get worse here?” The moisture farmer laughed bitterly, but Anakin raised his eyebrow.

But it was Obi-Wan who spoke first.

“I’m sorry, did you say Jabba the Hutt is dead?” Obi-Wan asked, “we’ve been led to believe that Jabba is alive and well.”

“Ah, well, I guess the Republic don’t know everything, does it?” Owen shook his head, and Anakin could understand it - better than anyone - the kind of feeling that the Core was out of touch, out of place, and ought to be out of here. And, yet, the Core had brought its Civil War here. 

Back home.

“Well, don’t just stand out here,” Owen laughed, patting Anakin on the back as if he was his brother - and, well, from a certain point of view, he was, wasn’t he? - gesturing for the two Jedi to head inside, “looks like we’ve got to get you up to speed.”

And so it was that Anakin was ushered into the Lars homestead for a second time, but as he passed underneath the sandstone doorway, he passed a glance over to his mother’s gravestone. He was so caught up in his sorrow that he almost didn’t notice the other gravemarker right beside it. And he felt his heart pang. What was the man’s name? The one that had freed her? His homecoming all those years ago had been brief, a whirlwind of emotion that had drowned out most of the memories…

Had he died too?

“-wan Kenobi. I’m afraid to say that the Republic must be misinformed about the goings of Tatooine,” Anakin snapped back to reality as they entered into the dining room of the homestead, taking a seat almost unconsciously beside Obi-Wan, “anything you could tell us will help immensely.”

“Well, where do I start?” Owen glanced at a pitcher of water, and gestured with his hand as if to say ‘help yourself,’ before clearing his throat, “a few weeks ago, I was down at Mos Espa, tryin’ to find a new engine for the speeder, and I heard that the fat slug got shot by one of his own men. Not sure how, and they didn’t say who did it, but the rumor is the rest of the Hutts wanted him out of the picture. Or at least, that was one of them…”

Anakin felt himself falling out of the conversation. All he could think about was his mother. (How you didn’t get to her in time. How she was tortured to the brink of death by those...monsters. How she died in your arms and how you weren’t strong enough to save her.) 

His fists clenched on the table, and he could sense Obi-Wan prodding him in the Force. Was he really letting his emotions broadcast that obviously? Well...it was still a burning wound in his heart, a scar that would never truly heal. A permanent reminder that he couldn’t save everyone.

“...but if they’re siding with the Separatists, then I guess that means your clones...you’re the ones with the clones right? Well, I guess that means you’ll be coming here then…” Anakin brought himself back into the conversation, just as it seemed it was winding down. How long had he zoned out? “Beru’ll be back soon from the vaporators. You’re welcome to put yourselves up in the guest room. I guess scaring off those Tusken Raiders is payment enough.”

“I suppose it is, and if they should return, we’ll see them off again,” Obi-Wan bowed his head, “thank you for your hospitality.”

“It’s the least I can do…” Owen looked over to Anakin, and seemed to want to say something - Anakin could sense it, even without the Force - but hesitated, and the words died before they could be spoken, “well, I’d better get back out there. As much as I think they won’t come back, I can’t be too careful.”

“Very well, it’s been a long journey. I suppose tomorrow, we’ll set out for Mos Espa,” Obi-Wan concluded, and rose to his feet. Anakin stood up as well, mostly out of habit, as Owen nodded his head and walked away, leaving the two Jedi alone in the dining room.

“I’m going to go out there too, at least for a little…” Anakin broke the silence between the two. It was a lie of omission, implying that he was going out there to watch for the Tusken Raiders and not to go do the more important thing - the only important thing - on his mind, “...I’ll be back soon.”

“You need rest, Anakin. You’ve been up since I picked you up on Naboo. The next few days will be long and…” a sly grin fell on Obi-Wan’s face, “we don’t want a repeat of what happened on-”

“Listen, that wasn’t my fault. You wanted to-”

“Oh yes, always blame me,” Obi-Wan laughed, and shook his head, “just promise me you’ll get some sleep.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin nodded, and then left before Obi-Wan could chastise him any more. He moved on autopilot, passing by Artoo without even a glance. The astromech warbled something to him, along the lines of ‘where the hell do you think you’re going?’ but Anakin didn’t really hear him. His mind was elsewhere, in the foggy recesses of a memory that he tried so hard to forget.

He moved slowly, carefully, with near-religious devotion, towards his mother’s grave. The gravestone that bore the name ‘Shmi Skywalker-Lars’ above a patch of Tatooine sand was all that was left of his mother. All that was left of a life spent in so much misery. All that was left of a woman who deserved so much better.

He fell to his knees, like he did when she was first buried, and his hand went down to the sands and he clenched into his fist, as if he could by the very act summon her from the grave. So he could hear her voice again, so he could wrap himself in her arms and cry out his sorrows to her. 

“I’m sorry, Mom…” he whispered, closing his eyes as the tears came down, “I’m sorry I never visit...it’s been hard and…” he bit back his words. He couldn’t lie to his own mother, “...I’m scared of coming here...and I’m scared that I failed you...and I’m scared that I’m going to fail everyone…” he felt his back start to sway, and he fell down to place his head against the sand at the bottom of the gravestone, “I wish you were here so much, Mom...I don’t know what to do anymore…” he could barely keep himself from sobbing.

He didn’t even want to try. The wind howled back in response, and he could feet it in his bones. A sandstorm was coming.

“Everyone wants me to be everything...and I don’t know who I am anymore…” he cried, tears that had years in the making coming out all at once, “...and all I want to do is save people...but I couldn’t even save you...and I just want you to tell me what I’m supposed to do…”

 _Follow your heart..._ the Sandstorm whispered.

“Sometimes I forget that you’re not here anymore...and something happens...and I want to tell you...and…” he spoke in choked words, cutting in between sobs, “...and then I remember that you’re gone…”

 _As long as you remember me, I’m never gone..._ the wind and the sand whipped around him.

“I love you, Mom. I miss you so much…” 

_Ani, I will always love you..._ the Desert replied as he felt the sand strike against his hands. In between the howling winds and the churning sands, he heard her. He could even see her. And he wondered if it was a mirage, or she was really there.

But as he rose to his feet, walking back into the homestead, he chose to believe that he had.


	4. The Return to Mos Espa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin returns to his childhood hometown of Mos Espa, and finds some old friends...

Anakin had forgotten many things from Tatooine. He had forgotten the Slaves’ Tongue, the language his mother taught him as a small boy. He had forgotten the stories of the Gods, only absently remembering that he was named after a god that would supposedly set all slaves free. He had forgotten all of the traditions that had once been second-nature in the Slave Quarters, recalling only the still images - like snapshots in a family Holobook - of dances in hidden basements or hushed passings of food around a dimly-lit fire.

But he had not forgotten the heat. He had not forgotten how the Twin Suns bore down their wrathful energy upon the cursed land, how in the midday the scorching temperature was so unbearable that you’d want to lie down and die right there. He had not forgotten how the burning sand somehow always found its way into your boots, into your robes, and made you wince with every step forward. 

He forced a grim smile on his face as he and Obi-Wan, Artoo in tow not far behind, made their way to Mos Espa. There weren't many words exchanged - not that he had wanted to say much anyway - but Anakin could tell, even without their Force bond, that Obi-Wan was even more uncomfortable in the heat than he was. He could tell by the way his former Master would sigh under the Suns, and reach around in his belt every so often to take an ever-small sip of his canteen. Obi-Wan would wipe his face, look at the boiling sweat, and shake his head as they continued.

“You know, Master, if you stop thinking about how hot it is, it gets better…” Anakin said, and was glad that he was behind Obi-Wan so he couldn’t see the smirk - that didn’t quite seem to go all the way - form on his lips.

“Anakin, not all of us had the luxury of being born on a desert planet…” Obi-Wan grumbled. His whole body language, to Anakin anyway, oozed his discomfort and his growing irritation. An amusing thought crossed his mind, imaging Obi-Wan living out in the Dune Sea for years. Tossing the image around in his head, he almost didn’t notice the looming city in the distance.

Almost.

But the very sight of the sandstone buildings - not as nearly as impressive as the architecture of Naboo or Coruscant, but hardy and in their own way timeless - brought forth memories that he would’ve rather left forgotten. None of the ones he wanted, like the Slaves’ Tongue or the dances or that one particular meal that had such significance but for the life of him the meaning had been lost, came back. 

No, the memories that came were of pain. Of the other-Masters, not the ‘good’ Masters of the Jedi Order but the kind that whip you and beat you and put explosives in your neck and exchange you like common produce. His mechanical fist clenched, the only sign in his conscious mind that it happened was the subtle whizzing of the pneumatic locks on the knuckles. 

“No sign of droids so far…” Obi-Wan murmured, perhaps sensing Anakin’s discomfort. And Anakin no longer had faith in his mental shields, not here and not now, “perhaps we were misinformed.”

But Anakin didn’t reply. His mind churned with images of his mother, the unspeakable things that he had to witness as a child. The brutality that he had found her in nearly (and only?) three years ago. And then he felt the Dragon breathe fire into his heart, and that burned hotter than the Twin Suns ever did.

**(You should’ve went to Mos Espa and killed every single slave owner. You should’ve ripped out the transmitters and led the slaves to Jabba and cut him up piece by piece. You should’ve avenged her.)**

The rational part of his mind, that sounded suspiciously like Obi-Wan, told him that his mother would not have wanted him to carve a path of destruction in his wake, fueled only by rage and hatred. But another part, which sounded like an oily snake slithering in the Dunes, told him that the rage and hatred was the only part of him that made him strong, and without it he would be nothing.

That he would always be nothing, but that the rage and hatred kept him alive. That it always had kept him alive.

 _/Do you hear me Anakin?/_ Artoo sent a small shock into his leg, causing Anakin to jump a little, _/I said, you’d better clean out my circuits when we get back! This is the last time I go to Tatooine! You should’ve brought Arfour along instead. He never does anything but sit in his ship and listen to the HoloNet./_

“Yeah, but Arfour isn’t as good as you,” Anakin smirked, and he felt the Dragon’s heat subsiding in his chest, “and besides, you’d get bored just sitting on the starfighter.”

 _/I would rather be bored than feeling my systems overheating and my treads getting covered in sand./_ Artoo grumbled in his way, _/if this whole trip is for nothing, you owe me an oil bath./_

“Of course, buddy, don’t you worry…” Anakin placed a comforting hand on his astromech’s dome, as the group walked into Mos Espa, and he felt like he needed the comfort more than the droid did. The boundary between the unending desert and the brief outpost of what could only loosely be called civilization was undemarcated. Simply, it was where the buildings began.

“Where should we start?” Obi-Wan spun around, looking towards Anakin.

“Why are you asking me? I haven’t been here in over ten years,” Anakin shrugged, and then looked around, “I would say check the Slave Quarters but...I’m not sure if I remember....”

Obi-Wan said something dismissive, or at least, he figured it was probably something dismissive if he was paying attention. But instead, Anakin closed his eyes and felt around with the Force. He could see the subconscious familiarity of things, and there was a certain warmth that nothing much had changed. That nothing ever changes in Mos Espa. And that feeling brought deep coldness, colder than Illum and Hoth. There were still Masters, still Slaves, and that would always be. Forever.

But he ignored it, and pressed on with the Force. There were familiar signatures, but he could not exactly place why. Names and faces danced around in his memory, like a half-remembered dream. Childhood friends that he had laughed with, played with, cried with, and suffered with. They were like memories from another life, and in a way, they were. 

He was living another life, separate from this. The day he left with Qui-Gon, he had become another person. The Anakin of Tatooine had died, and the Anakin of the Jedi Order had been born. Or at least, that’s how he saw it. Sometimes. But other times, the Anakin of Tatooine resurfaced, with his dreams of seeing the stars, his boyish love of the Angel of Naboo, and his terrifying fear of losing everything and everyone he loved.

Opening his eyes, banishing the visions dancing in his closed sight, he found that he had been walking. And, judging by the sights around him, walking for some time. He stood in front of a shop, a restaurant if he could tell. The wonderful and yet almost-forgotten smells of spices and fresh cooking worked their way through his nose and into his brain, causing more memories of the Slave Quarters to resurface, although without context. More snapshots in time nearly forgotten.

“Here,” Anakin said simply, turning to Obi-Wan who was standing beside him, “we should go here.”

“Let’s,” Obi-Wan gestured towards the doorway, covered by a bead-filled rug, “I’d like to get out of the heat.”

Anakin forced a grin, and led the way into the restaurant. The first thing that hit him was the overwhelming smell of spice, and a comforting sense of belonging. Candles on the tables provided light in the shadows of the Suns’ glare piercing through the covered windows, and he could see that there were a few patrons here. With a sweep of his hand, he led Obi-Wan towards a table near the lefthand corner, positioned so one could see the door.

“I’ll be right with you!” A hauntingly familiar voice cried from the back kitchen as the Jedi took their seats. Anakin took stock of the restaurant, eyeing the tables. He could tell, acting on either suppressed memories or from the Force (or both), that the patrons were slaves. There was something about their clothes, the way they sat and looked around with sad eyes, that told him everything he needed to know.

And he found himself sitting in much the same way as them, out of nothing but pure instinct.

A man arose from the kitchen and Anakin found himself trying to remember who it was. He was familiar, more familiar than just some passing memory in his brain. The man, just about the same age as he was, had copper-skin, turned bronze from the Tatooine suns, and had his black hair cut short and neatly. The next thing that stuck out was his clothes, wearing a modest red tunic with brown pants. Not the garb of a slave, that was for sure.

So where did he know him from?

“What can I get yo-” but at that, the man stopped, looking strangely at Anakin, like he had seen a ghost of the past. And then he opened his mouth, finding the words that for what seemed like an eternity had been lost, “ _Ahnakeen? Ahnakeen Ekkreth?_ ”

He hadn’t heard his name spoken like that since…

Anakin could only nod, trying to wrench from his muddled brain the man. He had known him. Was he one of the shopkeepers’ sons, who had given him bread to feed his mother when Watto had felt like they hadn’t worked hard enough? Was he one of the freeman boys, who played with them in the streets without regard for their status?

Then the man, in quick succession, began to speak in the Slaves’ Tongue, the words rolling off of his mouth faster than Anakin could process. In the Force, he could sense elation, surprise, and joy, but the words lost their meaning to him. He had forgotten it long ago.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin cut him off in the middle of the man’s speech, “I don’t speak the Tongue anymore.”

“Oh…” and then there was dejection, overbearing sadness, and wistful regret from the man, “I see…” the man’s smile turned lopsided, “do you still remember me?”

“You’re familiar...but it’s been a long time,” Anakin shrugged, and then leaned in to look deeply at the man. Studying his hard-worn face, the smile-lines around his cheeks. The look in his eyes. And then he remembered, rising to his feet and grabbing at the hand of his long-lost friend, “Kitster? Kitster Banai?! Force! I can’t believe it!”

“And Master Jedi _Ahnakeen Ekkreth_ , as I live and breathe,” the same boyish smile that had filled his youth with joy plastered itself on Kitster’s face as the two childhood friends embraced each other, “it’s so good to see you again, _Ahni_. In person, anyway. You’ve made quite a name for yourself out there,” Kitster gestured in a general way, waving his arm out towards the door. Clearing his throat, he put on his best imitation of a HoloNet-safe Coruscanti accent, “Anakin Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear, defeats ten thousand Separatist Battle Droids singlehandedly!” 

“Yeah...well…” Anakin shrugged, and tried to ignore the stressing of syllables that Kitster put upon his new name. The name that had been his since he left Tatooine.

“And this must be Obi-Wan Kenobi! By the Suns, we have genuine heroes here,” Kitster wore a devilish grin on his face, “whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“I couldn’t possibly…” Anakin shook his head, “what if…?” 

The unfinished question died on his lips, but Kitster already knew where it was going.

“I’m a free man, _Ahni_ ,” Kitster opened his arms, waving them around to the whole restaurant, “all of this? It’s mine. Well, mine and Tamora’s, anyway. She keeps the books good, and I keep the _tzai_ good,” Kitster then raised his eyebrow towards Anakin, “you still know your mother’s recipe, right?”

“I…” He thought back, but couldn’t remember. Only vaguely could he remember the taste, only remembering how warm and safe it made him feel as they shared it over a table, “...no, I’m sorry,” a mournful look fell upon both of them, but Anakin quickly banished it, “wait, you said that you’re married?!”

“Been about...oh...three years now?” Three years. Same as he and Padmé. Anakin found it easy to smile at this, and embraced his friend once again, offering his congratulations, “how about you, _Ahni_? I expect every girl from here to the Core wants a piece of the Hero!”

Should he tell him about Padmé? He wanted to. Desperately. He wanted to share that he had been married for three years too. That he had found his love with that strange girl from Naboo who had come when he had left Tatooine all those years ago. That he had to keep his love secret from everyone. 

Just like the Slaves from memory.

And then he remembered Obi-Wan, the Master...and he recoiled at the thought of associating Obi-Wan with Depur. And how, anyway, did he remember all of that? And how was it only coming back to him now?

“I…” he said after only a second of deliberation, his lips pursing and his brow furrowed in conflict, “...A Jedi is not allowed to be married.”

A thoughtful look crossed Kitster’s face, as he considered Anakin’s words. And then he turned towards Obi-Wan, and studied him for a brief second, before turning his head back to Anakin, “I see…” he nodded, as sage as Master Yoda, and then a sly smile appeared on his face, “...well, I see you haven’t forgotten all of our ways.”

“Perhaps not,” Anakin agreed, but to what, he wasn’t sure. At least consciously.

“If I may interrupt…” Obi-Wan finally spoke up, and Anakin couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed that he had been left out of the whole conversation, “do you mind if I get a glass...no...a pitcher of water, please?”

“Of course, Master Jedi,” Kitster bowed his head, and then turned to Anakin, “I’ll get something prepared for the both of you, and when I’m done, we can talk about everything.”

Anakin liked the idea of that. He liked that a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for all of the feedback and love for this work. I wrote this mainly out of my own desire to see something I always wanted to see in a fan-fiction out there. There's a lot of moving parts to this concept, and since we're far enough into it that I feel confident that sooner or later, it will see to its conclusion, I feel comfortable enough to share it.
> 
> The idea is there will be three works like this. The Rain-Bringer, The Slave-Who-Makes-Free, and The Chosen One. While I won't let on any of my major plot points, trust that there is one and I'm not simply making this up as we go along. And, trust that there will be a happy ending for everyone (or, well, mostly everyone.) 
> 
> A question for the readership: Would you like to see more POV characters? I have planned to have Padmé, Captain Rex, Count Dooku, and Sidious/Palpatine as POV. In fact, there will be (theoretically) a whole arc that Padmé does that, assuming all goes to plan, will exist almost independently of our main arc with Anakin and Tatooine until the third act ("The Chosen One.") Let me know what you guys think.


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